


Flashbacks and Panic Attacks

by whatTheFuckIsThis



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 09:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17557367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatTheFuckIsThis/pseuds/whatTheFuckIsThis
Summary: After a mission goes wrong, Sara starts spiraling. She locks herself in her room, drinking herself to sleep to stave off memories from her past. Screams and shattering glass fill the tense ship as the Legends try to help her get better. In the end, help comes from an unlikely source.Note: There is no actual suicide, however suicide, self-harm, and mental illness are mentioned frequently.





	Flashbacks and Panic Attacks

The mission was going fine. John had trapped the possessed man before any further damage could be done. His daughter and wife were standing next to the team, eagerly waiting for the Legends to get the man they knew back from the evil spirit. Everything was fine, until it wasn’t. When John opened a portal to hell, the possessed man lashed out and grabbed his daughter, dragging her down with him. Before Sara could stop herself, her knife was out of its sheath and embedded six inches deep in the man’s skull. As the life drained from his body, Sara paled.

Flashbacks of her victims flooded her brain. The young man who got too deep with the wrong gang. The couple who stole from the wrong business man. The old woman who told her secrets to the wrong people. And now the father who was found by the wrong heroes.

Sara could hear people talking to her but she couldn’t make out the words. She stared blankly at the floor as her team finished the job. John and Mick disposed of the body, while Zari cleaned up the crime scene. Ray comforted the little girl, as Charlie erased her and her mom’s memories of the past few hours.

When they got back to the ship, Sara went straight to her room, not even bothering to change out of her futuristic clothes before crashing face down on her bed. As she tried to fall asleep, more memories came rushing back to her. She tried to distract herself with loud music, Sudoku, even Mick’s newest trashy romance novel but nothing was working. She sighed and sat up on her bed.

“Gideon.”

“Yes Captain?”

“Where are the Legends?”

“Ms. Tomaz and Charlie are in the lab. Mr. Rory is in his room. Mr. Palmer and Mr. Constantine are off ship.”

“Perfect,” Sara whispered under her breath before heading to the kitchen. She wasn’t in the mood to see any of them right now. All she wanted to do was forget what had happened and sleep.

She went straight to the food fabricator, knowing the fridge wouldn’t have any alcohol nearly strong enough to put her to sleep. She scrolled through the list of drinks Gideon would make but couldn’t find anything other than weak beer and even weaker wine.  

“Gideon,” Sara groaned.

“Yes Captain?”

“Why is there nothing stronger than champagne on this list?”

“After the Christmas party incident I no longer make any drink with an alcohol content greater than 12.5 percent in case of-”

“Of course,” Sara sighed. “Gideon, enter override code ‘Charlie Papa Tango Whiskey Victor Romeo’.”

“But Captain-”

“Now Gideon. Charlie Papa Tango Whiskey Victor Romeo.”

Gideon sighed, or got as close as an AI could to sighing.

“All restrictions have been overridden for the Captain of the Waverider.” 

Sara left the kitchen a few minutes later with a bottle of Everclear and a shot glass. After walking back to her room and downing two shots, her head was too fuzzy to think about the people she had killed or anything else. She fell asleep on the floor, cradling the mostly-full bottle as if she was stranded in a desert with only the spirit as company.    

***

Days passed like that. Sara would wake up nauseous and barely able to stand. Once she was sure no one was around, she’d stumble to the kitchen and slink back to her room with a bowl of oatmeal and a six-pack of beer. Whenever one of the Legends confronted her in the hall, she would yell until her voice gave out or stare blankly ahead and walk right past them. At night the team heard screams coming from her room, then sobbing, then the sound of glass bottles hitting the door. Then silence.   

***

“We have to do something about her,” Zari said to the five crew members of the Waverider and Nate who had all gathered in the parlor.

The past few days had wrecked them. None of them had been able to fall asleep for more than a few minutes at a time without being woken up by drunken shouting or music blaring. Without a captain, the sleep deprived team blundered their way through missions, failing at times to even find their magical fugitive, let alone capture it. But the physical toll hadn’t been nearly as damaging as the stress of not knowing if Sara was going to be okay or even how to help her.   

“What can we do Z?” Nate asked, helplessness seeping into his voice. He’d been on the ship for a few days, since Ray had called him immediately after the mission, and in that time they’d barely made any progress. “We can’t portal into her room. So…”

“And we’ve already tried hacking into Gideon with no luck,” Ray said, his voice lacking his usual cheerful tone. “Ava even tried to get Sara to open her door but-”

“Shocker that one didn’t work mate,” Constantine drawled from the corner of the room, sipping his third glass of scotch since the meeting started.

“Shut it, John,” Charlie yelled from across the parlor. “At least they’re trying! You haven’t done fuck all since she locked herself in her room!”

“That’s ‘cause there’s nothing we can do! Sara, she’s-she’s strong. We just need to give her some time.”

“Oh right,” Zari scoffed. “Because time-”

She was interrupted by the sound of furniture breaking and glass shattering. Nineties grunge music started to play, no doubt meant to hide the sounds of sobbing and screaming as it had every night since the botched mission.  

“Clearly time has been a rousing success so far,” Zari continued. “Look, we can’t just wait around for her to kill- to get worse. We need a plan.”

“Should we call Oliver Queen?” Nate asked, turning to Ray. “They were together for a while right? He’s probably helped her through something like this before.”

“Oliver’s great at a lot of things but comforting people has never been one of them,” Ray admitted. “Maybe Nyssa…”

“Not sure calling her would be the best move, mate. Her being an assassin and all,” Constantine replied.

“Thought I was supposed to be the dumb one,” Mick said, taking the last sip from his beer.

He was tired of waiting around for a solution that would magically fix their captain. He may not know much, but he knew enough about mental breakdowns to know that waiting would only make things worse.

Without another word, he left the parlor to go talk to Sara himself.

***

Mick stood in front of Sara’s door with a plate of cookies and a jug of water, in case she decided to let him in. Gideon didn’t have much control over Sara’s room but she had enough to turn on the intercom system. Once Mick was sure the connection was open, he started talking.

“Hey boss. Brought you some food and water.”

He spoke loud enough so that he could be heard over the music Sara was playing. It wasn’t as loud as it had been before but it was just as angry. Thrashing chords and barely-understandable lyrics echoed through the hallway as Mick waited unsuccessfully for Sara to respond.

“They’ll be here if you want ‘em,” Mick said, placing the plate and jug on the ground. After pausing for a second, he took a seat next to the food and picked up one of the cookies.

“The team is trying to figure out what to do with you. Won’t be too long until one of those idiots pitches flooding the air vents with drugs to calm you down. They’ve already thought of every other shitty plan.”

He leaned his head against the door and looked up at the metal ceiling. The florescent light flickered, making the hallway seem darker than usual. Or maybe just emptier. The ship hadn’t been the same without its captain.

“I ever tell you about my father? That man was the worst person I’ve ever met. He used to wear his army uniform around the house and yell orders at me like I was one of his men. If I didn’t listen to him, he’d beat my ass. Sometimes he’d hit me with his belt or kick me with his boots or punch me in the face until my eyes were swollen shut. Fuck I hated him. One time I knocked over his beer while he was watching a football game and he burned me with his cigarette. Got a kick out of seeing the blisters form on my neck. Said it reminded him of the Napalm burns he saw in Vietnam.”

He paused for a second to gather his thoughts. Before he could continue, the music shut off.

“Mick,” Sara whispered, her voice still hoarse. She sounded weak, weaker than he was used to. Nothing like the woman he’d grown to know over the past four years. “Mick, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“Is it working?”

“No. Go away.”

Mick laughed and threw his head back against the door.

“We both know that’s not happening, boss. Now let me finish my tragic backstory.”

Sara didn’t respond but the music stayed off so Mick figured she was still listening.

“After that I started to burn myself. I stole an old lighter of his and I’d just watch my skin burn. It gave me a sick sense of control over my life. For once I felt like I was more than just my dad’s bitch. Then I started to like the fire more than the pain. I lit trash on fire, then some tires, then my neighbor’s plants. Once I lit my dad’s army uniform on fire. Couldn’t walk for a week after that beating,” Mick smiled at the memory. “When I started that fire in my house, the flames were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”      

He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Talking about his past was never easy and if he wasn’t careful he’d stumble right back into old habits.   

“I-I was going to stay in the house until it burned to the ground. I’d planned everything perfectly but I couldn’t do it. I left at the last second. Nobody else was supposed to be home but my dad must have gotten off work early. I never meant to kill him, but I’m glad it was him instead of me. The bastard deserved every second of suffering he got.”  

A few seconds after Mick finished speaking, the door opened.

“Watch the glass,” Sara said quietly from her spot on the floor.

Mick expected the broken glass but he didn’t expect the rest of Sara’s room to look just as wrecked. As he entered the room he saw loose papers and balled up clothes strewn across the typically spotless floors, with more clothing threatening to fall from the packed closet at any moment. Broken pieces of wood that formerly made up a chair were piled in the corner next to a dozen knives lodged in the wall. The sheets were torn off the bed and wrapped around Sara, making her small form seem even smaller.

“Eat,” he grunted, handing Sara the plate of cookies and taking a seat next to her on the floor.

“Do you have-”

“Oatmeal raisin are on the bottom.” Mick watched as she took one. How she could pass over chocolate chips for raisins, he would never know. But at least she was eating. “Drink.”

Sara started to object but thought better of it. She grabbed the jug from her friend’s hand and chugged it. The water was room temperature but it was the first thing she’d drunk without alcohol for a while so she wasn’t complaining.

Once all the water and oatmeal raisin cookies were gone, Sara asked the question that had made her open the door. 

“How did you get better Mick? Your dad-he… He really fucked you up, maybe more than I am and you’re still, well, stable.”

“I think you win this round, Boss. My old man may have been a piece of shit but he never made me kill anyone. Killing him and everyone else. That was my choice.”

“How are you not a mess?”

Mick cleared his throat and looked away.

“Snart. He and I-we met in juvie. When I first got locked up I was-I couldn’t get the image of that burning house out of my mind. Or the scent of burning flesh. I didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Barely even moved. Two of my cellmates got it into their heads that I’d make good target practice. Got in a few stabs before Snart stepped in and stopped ‘em. Still have the scars from those bastards.”

Mick absentmindedly rubbed the spot on his thigh where he’d been stabbed all those years ago. The scars had healed over a few times but he would always bring them back, burning or cutting the spot so he’d never forget how he met his partner.

“After that he watched out for me. He even got me appointments with the prison shrink.”

Sara looked over at him suspiciously.

“I didn’t trust her at first either but the meds helped. So did talking about it. I started eating again-”

“And you haven’t stopped since.”

“-and sleeping. And eventually I got better. To celebrate, Snart and I beat the shit out of my former cellmates. That was a fun night.”

“Never thought I’d get mental health advice from you,” Sara whispered. 

“It’s not healthy to keep all your shit bottled up,” Mick whispered back. “You’ve been through more fucked up things than most. It’s okay to get help.”

“I just-I,” Sara sighed and started over. “I thought I was passed this. The killing and the flashbacks. I worked so hard to get to a place where I felt safe and in control and now… All it took was one second and I-I killed someone. That little girl is gonna grow up without a father because of me. I could’ve saved him. I could’ve tried harder. If I had just listened to John, I could have-”

Mick put a hand on Sara’s shoulder and turned to look her in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault, Sara. You didn’t possess him or force him to attack the little kid. Because of you that girl and her mother are still alive. Shit goes wrong all the time. Doesn’t make it your fault.”

Sara sunk deeper into the blankets and looked away from Mick.

“Maybe not this time but… On my first mission with the League I was sent with this assassin named Asaf. Our target was a banker who had stolen from the League’s account. I tried to take him out when he was alone in the bathroom but someone else walked in and I couldn’t go through with it. So, Asaf and I snuck into his bedroom and waited until he and his wife fell asleep. Asaf slit his throat just fine but the target’s wife woke up and started screaming so I had to stop h-I killed her,” Sara took in a deep breath and waited for the wave of tears to pass. “Then his kids walked in. I’ll never forget that image. Children sobbing over the bodies of their murdered parents. Their cute little pajamas coated blood.”

Sara used the sheet wrapped around her to wipe away the tears that had slipped out. She still couldn’t look Mick in the eyes, so instead she stared at the broken glass until she was ready to continue.   

“When we got back to Nanda Parbat, Ra’s al Ghul threw me in a cell for a week. He said he’d have Nyssa drive a blade through my heart if I ever let myself be seen again. So after that I-I killed every person who saw me in the League uniform. All twenty-eight of them. You can’t say those death weren’t my fault.”

“I-”

“Stop, Mick. I know you were trying to help but, me killing that possessed man isn’t the same as you killing your father when you were a kid. The League trained me to be ruthless. I can’t afford to slip up.”

Mick thought about everything Sara had said. He knew she had been an assassin but she never talked about the details, preferring to simply say the past belonged in the past.

Trying to get rid of her guilt hadn’t worked so he tried a different tactic.

“Guess how many people I’ve killed.”

“What?”

“Guess how many people I’ve killed.”

“I-um, five.”

Mick scoffed and started recounting the stories of his victims. Some of them were intentional, like the guy who had been messing with Snart’s sister. Others were accidents, cops who had tried to arrest him or bystanders who got in the way.

 “I’m not a good person, Sara,” Mick said once he was done. “I’ve hurt a lot of people and I - have to live with that. But I’m getting better, we both are. Being guilty is fine but you don’t have to stop living and you don’t deserve to suffer like this.”  

Sara sighed. She was tired. She couldn’t live like this for long and she didn’t want to die. Getting better sounded nearly impossible at this point but if Mick was telling her she could do it, maybe he was right. It couldn’t be as bad as her current situation.  

“Okay. You’re right. I need-I need help.”

“We’ll start tomorrow, Boss. Right now you need to sleep.”

Sara nodded and before Mick could get her to her bed, she fell asleep on the floor, wrapped in her bed sheets.

He smiled slightly and started cleaning her room. Once all her clothes were in the wash, trash taken out, alcohol poured down the drain, and bed sheets changed, he lifted her into bed and tucked her in. When he looked back at his friend from the doorway, he started to understand how Snart felt all those years ago. Terrified and hopeful, even when hope didn't seem like an option. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have never had PTSD so please let me know if I mishandled this or any other sensitive topic. 
> 
> Sorry for more angsty shit. Let me know what you think. Like and comment if you feel so inclined.


End file.
